Paying the Devil
by Esther-Channah
Summary: When Rumpelstiltskin asks for help, he doesn't get the answer he was expecting. Mild spoilers for S6. Diverges from canon after "Awake".


A/N: I got the idea for writing this after watching "Awake". By the time I got around to posting it, it was no longer canon-compliant. So… another divergence fic for me. And you.

A/N: Some allusions to events happening in S6. Canon-compliant through "Awake".

 _Excerpted from NauticEd's Sailing terms:_

 _ **Devil seam**_ : _The curved seam in the hull planking closest to the waterline when the ship is level. The seam between these two planks… is the devil seam. This seam is particularly difficult to pay…_ _because there is little support_ _in the direction of the compression…_

… _'Paying' the Devil is sealing the devil seam. It is a difficult and unpleasant job…_

 **Paying the Devil**

"His heart?" Belle repeated. "But then, that means…"

Rumple nodded. "It means that Gideon's attempt to kill Emma wasn't by his choice. He's not aiding the Black Fairy willingly; if he were, she'd have had no need to take it from him."

"Well, can he fight her then?" Belle asked, hope and excitement in her voice.

"Unfortunately," Rumple sighed, "not enough that we can depend on his resistance to turn the tide. She ordered him to destroy the pixie flowers. He was able to spare one out of the entire field. And," he sighed again, "since I was fool enough to bring that point to my mother's attention, I've no doubt she'll word her commands more carefully in future to ensure our son won't be able to find further loopholes."

Belle shook her head as her smile dimmed and died. "It was just a thought."

"I know."

"So…"

Rumple didn't answer for several long moments. Finally, he took a deep breath. "I… may have been too quick to call in certain favors."

"Rumple?"

"We can't fight my mother on our own," Rumpelstiltskin said heavily. "And if we're to have any hope at all of getting Gideon out of her clutches…" He shook his head slowly. "We…" His voice faltered and he took another breath. "I need to ask for help."

Belle blinked. "Well, of course," she started. "Surely the others will—"

Rumple was shaking his head again. "I wish I shared your confidence," he said. "But if you reflect for a moment, I think you'll recall that the heroes in this town have always demonstrated a marked preference for… letting me work out my own difficulties." He sighed. "It's mostly my own doing, I must admit," he continued. "Though not entirely so."

Belle winced. "I could ask them," she offered.

His smile was appreciative, but his eyes were sad. "If you ask and they turn you down, then nothing I might add to your appeal could make any difference. Whereas if the initial request comes from me, then if it's rejected, there's a better chance they'll reconsider a second plea on your part. I… know I've no right to ask this of you now, Belle, but I must anyway. Please. On this matter, at least, trust me."

She wasn't sure she could trust herself at this moment. Not to reply verbally without breaking down, at any rate. But she managed a nod with her lips pressed tightly together in a forced smile, her eyes shut tight against the tears threatening to spill and when Rumple covered her hand with his, she gripped it fiercely and pulled him close. He waited almost a full minute before he gently eased himself out of her embrace.

"I'll be back before you know it," he reassured her, trying to inject a note of cheer.

Belle nodded again and managed to wait until her husband left before her tears finally broke free.

* * *

He'd been a coward all his life, so his pounding heart and sweating hands were nothing new to him. This time, he knew, he wasn't facing physical danger, but humiliation. In many ways, that was going to be worse. He was immortal. He could recover from most physical danger.

He wasn't used to asking for help. When he thought he might need it at some point down the road, he contrived to manipulate matters so that the people he intended to ask would be in his debt. At that point, he was quite comfortable demanding that they assist him in order to discharge their obligation to him.

Things were different this time. Too much had happened to him too quickly and there had been no time to arrange matters satisfactorily in advance. Despite himself, he felt his lips twitch at the understatement. From the time he'd been banished from Storybrooke and suffered a heart attack in New York, he'd had no time for long games. His plans had been short-term, meant to deal with the crisis at hand. Get back to Storybrooke. Turn the Savior dark so the Author could have his ink. _Find_ the Author and get him to write a happy ending for him before his heart blackened completely. And then, the loss of his magic, Emma's manipulations, losing Belle and reclaiming his Darkness… He shook his head as he reviewed the rest of it. Emma blackmailing him into taking the heroes to the Underworld, discovering that Belle was pregnant, deciding—for once—to be honest with her, instead of telling her what he knew she wanted to hear, trusting that she had meant it when she'd told him that he could be open with her about anything. She hadn't. And now, their son was in the Black Fairy's thrall and, for the life of him, Rumple couldn't see how he could free Gideon from that servitude. Oh, he had ideas. He always had ideas. And they always blew up in his face, because it was an immutable law that villains did not get happy endings.

Here was a conundrum. If he was a villain, and his mother was a villain, and they were about to face off against one another… did that mean that, for once, fate hadn't rigged the game? Perhaps… but that still didn't mean he was going to win. Even if he defeated the Black Fairy, it didn't follow that he'd be able to save Gideon. A victory might not mean a happy ending.

No, if he wanted to save his son, he needed to join forces with those upon whom Fate generally smiled. He reminded himself that they didn't have to like him or trust him. They just had to help him.

And there was the rub. Would they? They had no reason to. In fact, they had every reason to assume that they would need to fight him in the coming battle. It _was_ between the forces of Light and Darkness, after all.

He realized that he was standing in front of the Nolan's building. He didn't know for sure that the Heroes would be here, but it seemed likely. For what felt like an eternity, he faced the door handle, trying to will himself to turn it and walk inside. Weeks ago, he'd found the courage to face a rampaging bear to save Belle. Now, he wished he faced a score of them instead of the nondescript wooden double doors he needed to pass through to get through the lobby and up the stairs to Apartment 3. He had half a mind to teleport in. Just appear in their midst and get it over with. But they'd be likely to interpret such a move as an attack, Regina and Emma would respond to it as such, he'd have to defend himself and he was fairly certain that civil conversation would be nigh impossible afterwards. Besides, as much as he needed to talk to them, he didn't mind taking an extra minute or two to collect his thoughts. He was going to have to be nice to the pirate. He wasn't looking forward to _that_. Not when he felt his shoulders tense painfully—as though he'd somehow kept his suit on its wooden hanger when donning it that day—if he stood in the same room with him or even heard his voice.

He pressed his lips together and nodded to himself. He had to do this, he reminded himself. For Gideon. Then he pushed down on the handle and pushed the door open.

* * *

At least they hadn't thrown him out. While he did own the building, that didn't give him any legal right to intrude without warning, barring an emergency. Of course, this _was_ an emergency—at least, to him—albeit not one pertaining to the property.

Snow had invited him to sit down, though it had been strictly for politeness's sake. Now, he occupied a wooden chair, feeling like a prisoner in the dock as he faced the others, who sat together deliberating in judgment. Nobody spoke. Instead, they shot quick glances at one another, each trying to determine how the other wanted to rule. The silence stretched.

He regarded each of them in turn but, skilled though he was at reading people, this time, he was at a loss. He saw wariness, suspicion, annoyance, concern, even exasperation. And yes, some sympathy as well, for all they tried to hide it. He supposed that he could understand all of that. And he supposed that he already knew their answer, much as he wished otherwise. They'd seldom been willing to help him before. Even when he'd been dying of dreamshade, Snow had quite coolly suggested that the town would be better off if they did nothing save him. They'd gotten the Apprentice to heal his heart, but that had been less about helping him than about the threat of an unrestrained Dark One wreaking havoc on the town. And now… his son posed a similar threat. And he had no reason to think that they would suffer it any longer than they needed to. Gideon had tried to kill Emma at least twice. They wouldn't give him a third chance. Rumple couldn't even blame them; he would have acted the same way had the situation been reversed. But Gideon was his son and Rumpelstiltskin would not lose him as he had Bae.

He rose to his feet. "I suppose it might be best if I left you alone to discuss this," he said dully.

Snow and David exchanged a glance and David started to get up as well. "If you're going to wait in the hallway," he said, "I can carry the chair out for you. We might take a while."

The Prince's tone was apologetic, almost friendly. That, coupled with his suggestion that the discussion might wax long were the first indicators that they were going to, at least, consider what he was asking. The sarcastic retort he'd been about to make died on his lips and he managed a shaky nod and a quick strained smile before he walked slowly out of the apartment, David close behind.

* * *

"I don't like it," Regina said. "He's come too close to killing Emma already. I'm not sure we can afford to be merciful now."

"The problem is," David said, "if we have to stop Gideon permanently, forget about Gold helping us; he's going to move against us full-force before we take on his son. You and Emma _might_ be able to handle him in a magic fight—"

"Zelena could be willing to help with that," Regina interrupted.

"Fine," David acknowledged. "But even if the three of you can beat him—which is by no means guaranteed, once that's over, you're still going to have to take on Gideon _and_ the Black Fairy, not necessarily in that order. Do you think you can take them all on at once or in quick succession?"

"Before anyone answers," Snow said quietly, "don't forget how thin these walls are. Gold's right outside, probably hearing everything we say."

"I think we can count on that," Emma nodded. "I know _I'd_ listen in on a conversation like this if I could."

"Should we ask him to wait for us back at the shop?" David suggested.

Regina shook her head. "If he wants to listen in, he will, no matter where he is. Let's… keep on discussing this as we were."

Snow sighed. "I just… After all the times we've asked for his help, I have to admit it doesn't feel right turning him down. Especially when it's not like he wants us to commit some dark act. I mean, he's asking us not to kill his son. It's not something we'd even consider in the first place, unless there was no other way."

"But agreeing to that, might mean giving Gideon another shot against Emma," Regina reminded her. "Or has anyone got any non-permanent ideas on how to take on Dark One Junior?"

"He said he'd help us," Emma pointed out.

"Yes," Regina nodded. "He did. But if it comes down to your life or Gideon's… I think we know what Gold's going to decide. And I think we know where the rest of us weigh in on that question. Knowing where everyone stands… It's not a question of whether Gold will betray us; it's a question of _when_. We can't trust him. We never could and we never will. It'd be stupid to think otherwise."

Snow and David nodded slowly.

Emma glanced at the only other person in the room. "Killian? You've been pretty quiet. What do you think?"

* * *

He'd been a fool to think that offering him a chair had indicated anything more than basic courtesy. But then, he thought bitterly, even basic courtesy was more than they usually extended him. How many times had they come running to him, beseeching him to help Good triumph? And how many times had he acquiesced, even though it meant, essentially, working against his own interest? But let him come to them for help, even if it was toward a common goal?

Well, the prince was thinking like a tactician, or trying to, at any rate. And his wife, at least, had some concept of fairness. Even Emma, who—admittedly—had good reason to reject his appeal, sounded willing to consider helping him. But their goodwill appeared to be taking a back seat to their distrust. And with Regina bolstering that distrust… Well, he supposed that Snow White's unflagging hope and optimism might still carry the day, but he had his doubts.

" _Killian? You've been pretty quiet. What do you think?"_

The small flame of hope he'd been nursing sputtered, hissed, and began to fade in earnest.

* * *

Killian winced as every eye in the room turned toward him. "I wish you hadn't asked me that, love," he murmured.

Regina's jaw dropped slightly. "I beg your pardon?"

"Hook?" David asked.

Killian took another breath. "Perhaps in an hour or two, I'll be able to appreciate Fate's sense of humor in placing me in this spot. Perhaps over a draught of rum," he added. "But right now…" He sighed. "I suppose my own deeds are weighing a bit heavily on me tonight. Particularly since I've been reminded of them so recently."

"Hook," Snow said, "Killian… you were a different person then. And that was a long time ago."

"Aye," Hook nodded, "I thought as much while we were in Neverland. And after our return to the Enchanted Forest, I confess that my old life and habits had lost much of their allure for me." He let out a breath. "But when I became a Dark One, where was this… new man I thought I'd become?"

"Killian!" Emma exclaimed. "I was a Dark One, too. I know what you were facing and I know how hard it was to resist." She looked down.

"You managed."

"Yeah, by the skin of my teeth. Killian, it was not easy."

"Aye, love," Killian nodded. "I'll give you that. And given the circumstances, I understand why you kept fighting for me. But the rest of you?"

Regina sighed. "Darkness… has a way of taking over. Emma was fortunate enough to have all of us pulling for her. If we'd realized what had happened to you in time, you would have had the same. I… didn't have a reason to fight my own darkness until I realized I'd lose Henry if I didn't, at least, try. And, while I realize I can't exactly blame people for not wanting to trust me in the beginning, I will say I might have found it easier to stay the course if someone had taken the chance."

"Aye," Hook nodded, his eyes flicking meaningfully toward the apartment door. "But the same can be said about someone else as well." He let out a long breath. "And, your majesty, I'd venture to guess that a parent fighting for their child has reason enough to try fighting their own darkness. Especially if they're asking for help instead of trying to face things alone."

There was a stunned silence.

"Perhaps…," Hook added after nobody else seemed inclined to speak, "we ought to take the chance that his plea was sincere."

Finally, Snow smiled. "I never thought I'd hear you defend Rumpelstiltskin."

Hook sighed. "Believe it or not, it's not the first time." He shook his head. "It may be news to the rest of you, but Emma knows that there was another instance when Rumpelstiltskin came to me, when he was desperate to keep his family together. Then, I laughed in his face. While I'd be lying were I to claim that there was any love lost between me and him…" He looked directly at Emma. "I told you then that I was the villain in that play. I can't change the past. But the present is another matter. If you're asking for my vote…" He took a breath. "Aye. Help him."

Snow, David, and Emma had been uncertain, but it had been Regina who had been most opposed to the idea of helping Rumple, and it was to Regina that four pairs of eyes turned now. For a moment, Regina hesitated. Then, slowly, she nodded and David got up to open the door.

* * *

It felt like the ground had opened beneath him and he was hurtling through a bottomless pit. He'd heard the pirate's speech, but he couldn't believe it. Part of him didn't want to. Of all the people who might have spoken up on his behalf, for it to have been the pirate who had not only supported him, but won over the rest of the lot of them… He was still trying to wrap his head around that—that and the other things he'd said. It seemed that the captain had a conscience after all.

Rumple tried to tell himself it didn't matter what the man said now. It didn't change what had gone before. It didn't lessen his humiliation that long-ago day on the deck of the _Jolly Roger,_ nor ease the tension in his shoulders even one iota. No, all of this was a ploy to make him feel beholden to the pirate. Hook had to be laughing at the prospect, while the truth was that the debt the pirate owed _him_ was too great to ever be cleared.

The pirate hadn't sounded like he was laughing when he'd given his little speech. He'd sounded like he'd rather have been saying something quite different. It was almost as though he hadn't been thinking about having the Dark One in his debt at all.

And then the door was opening and the prince was standing there looking at him, the pirate and the savior a half-step behind. "I guess you heard," he said.

It was all Rumple could do to nod.

"Do… do you want to come back inside?"

He needed a few minutes to himself first. "I should get Belle," he murmured. "She may have insights, as well."

David smiled. "You're probably right. We're not planning on going anywhere for a bit, so if the two of you come back here…"

He nodded again.

And then Hook stepped forward. "Might I have a word?" he asked. "Privately?"

Rumple sighed inwardly. He should have teleported away before the pirate could speak. Doing so now would be almost a slap in the face. And for the first time since that day on the docks, so many years ago, the idea of slapping Hook didn't appeal to him. He wasn't sure he could raise his shoulders enough to shrug right now. His expression betrayed nothing, though, as he replied mildly, "As you like."

* * *

There was nobody on the street, which was something of a relief. There would be no witnesses to observe him talking to the pirate. That was, if there was any talking to be done. Considering that Hook had asked for this, Rumple would have expected him to speak up by now. Finally, Rumple jammed his hands in his jacket pockets, took a breath, and, staring fixedly at the sidewalk before him, said in a low voice, "I know some thanks are in order."

Hook nodded. "So you did hear all of it. I wasn't sure if you'd stayed for the whole conversation. It… couldn't have been pleasant."

Why wasn't the pirate gloating or lording it over him? At least, he wasn't downplaying things. Regina would have reminded him that Good didn't exact vengeance. The prince would have shrugged it off as being 'the right thing to do', and perhaps, even diplomatically avoided adding, "Not that you'd know that."

"All right." Rumple took another breath. For the first time, he turned to look at the man walking next to him. "You asked for this conversation. What is it you want?"

Hook hesitated. "I suspect you already know."

Of course. The pirate had done him a favor. Now he wanted one in return. "Go on." The sooner this debt was discharged, the better.

"Yes, well." The pirate shook his head. "Funny. Before I spoke my mind in front of the others, I truly thought admitting the truth to myself was going to be the hardest part, not the easiest. I suppose we all rationalize. Nobody likes to picture themselves as a villain, after all. Well. I realize you've always seen me that way, but I thought that, since I'm trying to demonstrate that I no longer fall into that category, this next bit would be easier to get out if I tried to view it as one more opportunity to… to show you up," he admitted with a slight cough. "It isn't."

"What are you on about?" Rumple demanded testily.

For a long moment, the other man regarded him soberly. "You asked me what I wanted. Two things, I suppose. I want to apologize for that day on the _Jolly Roger_. I should have brought your wife up on deck to tell you she was aboard of her own free will." He looked down. "Challenging you to that duel was the act of a bully and a cheat. I mean," he coughed, "you must know by now that, even had you picked up that sword, even had you won the fight, she would not have returned with you. Which made the entire exercise a cruel joke from the outset. Bad form and I am truly sorry for that."

"I…" Hook was right about Milah, of course, but somehow that simple truth had never occurred to Rumple before. "You said two things," he reminded him. "What's the second?"

Hook mumbled something and for the second time, Rumple wasn't sure he could believe his ears. "I beg your pardon?"

Hook pressed his lips together and nodded. "Forgiveness," he repeated. "I know that's a big ask, and probably harder for you to grant than it is for me to request. And I know it won't change any of what's passed between us. But I don't think I can move forward if I don't, at least, try to address some of the wrongs I committed in the past." He sighed. "Or, more to the point, you came to us asking to join forces. If you and I don't deal with our history… I think we can agree that it won't be an easy alliance."

And here he'd never thought that he and the pira—and _Hook_ —would ever agree on anything. He wasn't sure he was comfortable with the realization that they did. "You know," he said slowly, "I do believe that this is the longest conversation we've had where you haven't addressed me as 'Crocodile'."

Hook blinked. "Yes, well, my time as a Dark One just about brought me to the brink of developing my own… scales. And," he added with slight laugh, "insulting someone you're trying to apologize to is very bad form."

"Indeed," Rumple replied with just a hint of a smile. "Well," he allowed. "I imagine we each have more than enough to apologize for. As for forgiveness…" He took a deep breath and let it out. Hook was being honest with him. He deserved the same courtesy. Even if, in this case, the honest answer smacked of haggling—a practice Rumple seldom allowed those who tried to strike deals with _him_. "I'm not sure I can lay aside a vendetta that's persisted for nigh on two centuries, no matter how… grateful… I might feel. Not overnight," he added quickly. "But I imagine that, in time, it may be possible. And until then, perhaps we can say… tolerance?"

Hook nodded. "Aye," he said, extending his hand. "I'd say that's a fair deal."

There was more than a hint of a smile on Rumple's face when he shook it, and as he did so, he felt the tension in his shoulders slowly ebb away.


End file.
